The running shoe industry spends millions each year developing the most scientifically up-to-date footwear to propel runners as efficiently as possible, and each year when the Comrades army gathers in its featherweight takkies, it reminds me of the Springbok player who ran the 1922 race in his grubby rugby boots.
Bill Payn, an absolute legend of South African sport, was cajoled into running the race on the eve of the event, after having enjoyed some stiff drinks with his mate Arthur Newton who went on to win the “up” race.
Payn lined up at the start in his rugby boots because he thought they would provide a tactical advantage over takkies on the gravel roads of that time, and he needed all the help he could get!
At Hillcrest, as his hangover kicked in, Payn stopped to have bacon and eggs, and later on enjoyed some chicken curry provided by a supporting friend. At Drummond, the halfway mark, he celebrated the milestone by having a pint of beer with a fellow runner. The beers tasted good, but while his drinking partner chose more amber nectar instead of the 40-odd more kilometres to the (then) Natal capital, Payn kicked on.
Somewhere along Harrison Flats, Payn was struggling when a wandering saviour materialised out of the blue and offered him a magic potion disguised as peach brandy.
In Payn’s own words: “I gulped down a tumbler of this brew and realised that I had swallowed a near-lethal dose of raw alcohol. I am convinced that to this fragile little woman with flushed pink cheeks must go full credit for inventing the first liquid fuel for jet engines, and I was propelled to the finish.”
After this rejuvenating refreshment, Payne moved up to fifth place, but outside of Pietermaritzburg he spotted his wife’s family enjoying tea and cake on the veranda of a home. He thought it would be rude not to stop for a cuppa...
Payn eventually finished the 90km in 10:56:00, and in eighth place.
The story does not end there. In Maritzburg, a friend reminded Payn that he was due to play a club rugby match in Durban the next day, and offered him a lift back to Durban on the back of his motorcycle. Off they went, and Payn duly played for his club, but in takkies because his feet were masses of blood blisters.
Dare we mention that today’s rugby players are pampered pros... !
A lesser known but just as compelling a story of this incredible South African is his organisation of an unofficial “Test” series between the “Springboks” and the “All Blacks” while a prisoner of war in Poland during World War 2.
And so you thought the series between the New Zealand Cavaliers and the Boks in 1986 was the first unofficial series between the two countries?
Seriously, though, Payn had played two Tests on the flank for the Boks against Britain in a home series in 1924, with the Boks victorious in those matches. The Maritzburg College old boy did not play again for the Boks, but was a mainstay of Natal teams.
At the age of 46, he volunteered for service in the British army when World War II broke out in 1939. He was among tens of thousands of allied soldiers taken prisoner by the Germans in North Africa, and was a prisoner of war in Stalag XX-A in German-occupied Poland.
There were also hundreds of New Zealanders in that camp, and with the brilliant Springbok series win over the All Blacks in New Zealand in 1937 still fresh in the minds of South Africans and Kiwis, Payn asked the camp commandant if a rugby match could be played between POWS of the two countries.
His wish was granted and the international Red Cross flew in a rugby ball from England. Great care was put into the build-up to the match. Let’s face it... the prisoners had time on their hands.
The South Africans went to painstaking lengths to achieve their green and gold colours — they boiled their white red cross vests together with olive Russian uniforms to obtain green, while for the gold they ingeniously boiled up a solution of anti-malaria tablets.
Payn had two very able assistant coaches in Peter Pienaar, who was the son of Theo Pienaar, the 1921 Springbok captain in the very first series against New Zealand; and Billy Millar Jnr, whose father had captained the Boks on their unbeaten tour of Britain in 1912/13.
The field was marked off on the parade ground with yellow clay. Incidentally, the teams played barefoot in the Polish winter because the Germans decided that army boots were too lethal. Strange that they cared?
The result of the game has been lost in the mists of time, but what we do know is that one of the South African players was a certain Okey Geffin, who went on to become a famous Springbok.
On a sombre note, the Germans were unaware that Geffin was Jewish. Had they known, his future might have taken a tragic turn.
Payn spent many hours with Geffin, coaching him on goal kicking, and history records that in 1949, four years after the end of World War II, Geffin kicked the Boks to a 4-0 whitewash of the touring All Blacks.
As for Payn, he returned to Durban after the war and continued his teaching career at Durban High School. He taught there for 40 years; it would have been longer had he not fought in World War I (1914-1918) and World War II (1939-1945).
Interestingly, English teacher Payn’s great passion was etymology (the study of the origin of words) and he was a much-sought-after public speaker on the subject.
Payn died suddenly in 1959 in a trolley car accident (Durban had a public tram transport system back then), aged 66, and it was speculated that this had been after an evening of frivolity. Payn would have loved the humour of his death being ascribed to him being “off his trolley!”
Typical of this wonderful character, he had made a significant provision in his will for free beer for his mates at his wake. And what a wake it was, by reports. There were not only all his old army comrades, but legions of sporting pals — he had not only played rugby and cricket for Natal, but also represented his province in boxing, athletics and baseball.
Postscript
Bill Payn was much loved for
his sense of humour, as illustrated by a wonderful anecdote about the unusual measures he took when his cricket team was suffering poor form in Durban’s premier league. They were particularly bad with the bat, prompting captain Payn to place an advertisement in the Natal Mercury, which read:
“Join Stamford Hill and bat twice on a Saturday afternoon”.
Postscript 2
Bill’s strength of character was such that he looked on prison life under the Germans as a challenge, refusing to be restricted, and to quote him:
“Life is always life if one can laugh and captivity is what your heart makes of it.”
A great leader of men, Bill saw his imprisonment as an opportunity to be of service to his fellow prisoners.
He was in great demand as a speaker, with a range of subjects stretching from discussing the complete works of Shakespeare, a set of which he had with him in camp, to his talk on whales and their habits, which was also a great favourite. He continued to teach, conducting classes for prisoners who were taking correspondence courses.
And then, of course, there was his organisation of cricket and rugby matches, though maybe his toughest achievement was teaching other Allied nations the art of jukskei!